Killing Ways

15

That night, Ren worked her way up to calling Karen Dettling.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Karen picked up.

‘Hi, it’s Ren.’

Silence. ‘Hi.’ Terse.

Ooh. ‘I’m calling to put your mind at rest about me and Gary.’

Silence. ‘This isn’t a conversation for the phone, Ren. I’d like to meet you face to face for this.’

Noooo. ‘No problem,’ said Ren, ‘but I want you to know that there’s nothing going on between me and Gary.’

‘We’ll talk,’ said Karen. ‘I’ll come to your apartment, if that’s OK. I don’t want Claire to hear this.’

‘Of course,’ said Ren. She looked down at the list of dates and times. Now I have to learn this off. Great. ‘Can you give me an hour? I just have to finish something off.’ Like a tall tale.

Karen Dettling arrived beautifully made-up, carefully put together, looking far saner than when she had come to the office.

Conscious of not looking like the crazed wife. You don’t need to do that for me.

Ren left her to settle on the sofa while she made tea.

‘It’s just, he’s been so strange...’ said Karen when Ren brought out the tray, and sat down.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ said Ren, ‘he’s been strange at work, but that’s because I think this is about work. There have been a lot of staff upheavals: Colin Grabien resigned in such murky circumstances—’

‘What happened with Colin Grabien really got to Gary,’ said Karen. ‘You wouldn’t believe how badly he took that. Colin was part of the original Safe Streets team, he was this hotshot IT genius financials guy who Gary felt very proud to have hired. Colin could do no wrong, professionally...’

She trailed off, but Ren knew what she was intimating, and what she was too discreet to say: Colin Grabien was, basically, an asshole who had a problem with the world. And in the end, with Ren in particular; she had found out he shafted the other candidate in order to get his job. She kept it from Gary, but she made sure Colin knew, and made sure he did the right thing by resigning. Gary had a hard time committing to a replacement. Until Everett came along.

‘And,’ said Ren, ‘after Colin, Cliff requested a transfer, so Gary had to find someone to fill that spot. And, you know me — I’ve caused him problems. Karen, I’m well aware of my shortcomings, and I would venture Gary has spoken about me at home...’

Karen nodded.

‘I just can’t imagine him ever talking about me in a way that would suggest he has any kind of feelings toward me other than frustration...’

Karen started laughing.

‘Personally, I think I am Gary’s worst nightmare,’ said Ren. ‘Like, he would actively avoid me on a personal level.’

Karen was now crying and laughing at the same time.

‘I understand more than anyone that a series of different things can lead to what feels like a logical, concrete conclusion,’ said Ren. ‘I mean, a champagne cork in a bag... that’s not great. I’d have a hard time with that.’

‘And if Ben had a hot colleague he was away with that same night... who is known for drinking champagne...’ She smiled.

Ugh. You’re such a nice person. You feel like a fool and I’m complicit in that. And I would be devastated if someone did that to me.

Karen sighed. ‘I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. This is not about you. I just... I’m at my wit’s end.’

‘You’re not an idiot,’ said Ren. Not at all. ‘Your husband’s been withdrawn, you found this random cork... any woman would be freaked out.’

‘Thanks,’ said Karen. ‘I don’t want this to be an issue between us. Is it too late for that? You know Claire adores you, and part of me was just so mad at the idea that you could be in our home with all that going on. I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this. Claire is only seventeen... part of me was panicking that... this would be an example I’d be setting for her, that she’d think she should sit back and tolerate a cheating husband.’ She let out a breath. ‘I don’t know what to think...’

‘Please don’t worry about this,’ said Ren. ‘It doesn’t affect anything as far as I’m concerned.’ It really doesn’t. ‘I totally understand how you could have thought what you thought.’

Karen’s eyes almost narrowed. ‘Can I ask you one thing?’ No. Please don’t. I know where you’re going.

‘Sure,’ said Ren.

‘Is there someone else?’ said Karen. ‘Do you know? Is Gary seeing someone else?’

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s not seeing her. The affair is over. ‘No,’ said Ren. ‘No. He is not seeing someone.’ IS not. Not WAS not. Is not. And that is the truth.

‘Thank you,’ said Karen. ‘Thank God.’ She stood up, and started to walk toward the door. She paused, and turned back. ‘What were you celebrating?’

‘Pardon?’ said Ren.

‘Why the champagne?’ said Karen. ‘What were you and Gary—’

Fuuuck. Fuuuck.

‘—celebrating?’ said Karen.

Ren stared at her feet. They were bare, polished in a beautiful shade of aqua.

Help me. Help. Me.

Oh. My. God. Feet! That’s it! God bless you!

Ren jumped up. ‘It’s the case! Sorry, Karen. I just realized something. There’s another victim. Oh, Jesus Christ. Please, excuse me. I need to call Everett.’

Ren ran into the kitchen, picked up her cell phone, dialed Gary’s number.

‘Everett!’ she said.

‘It’s Gary—’

Duuuuuh! ‘I’m calling because — do you remember Gia Larosa, the young runaway?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Karen is here. What were we celebrating that night — the champagne. Jesus Christ.’

‘Ren, you drink champagne all the time — you don’t need a reason. It’s your drink.’

‘Oh my God, I never thought of that,’ said Ren. ‘That’s how fucking stressed out this is making me!’

‘How’s Karen?’

‘Ugh. Fine. Back to Gia Larosa — do you remember her?’

‘Her body was found on her eighteenth birthday — that stuck with me.’

‘Yes, raped, murdered, found on Lookout Mountain at the beginning of June, torn apart by critters. I remembered the autopsy report saying that she had splinters in her foot... remaining foot.’

She could have run away from him.

Not far — or fast — enough.

‘Maybe,’ said Gary, ‘but it stands to reason that if any woman was trying to run away from a killer outdoors, and she was barefoot, her feet would be damaged. Her shoes were bound to have been kicked off or removed, especially if they were heels.’

Wind out of sails. ‘I’ll look into it tomorrow.’

Ren ended the call.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, walking back in to Karen.

Karen was standing in the living room with her jacket on. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve stayed here long enough. You’re busy, this is an important case. Do you really have another victim?’

‘I think so, yes. From back in June.’

‘And what did Everett think?’ said Karen.

I see the hurt in your eyes. This is vile. ‘He isn’t sure.’

‘Well, you keep doing what you’re doing,’ said Karen. ‘You’re an excellent agent. And I’m so sorry for dragging you into all this. I’m so ashamed.’

‘Oh my God, don’t say that,’ said Ren. ‘Shame is a total waste of time.’ She hugged her.

‘Thanks,’ said Karen. ‘Thanks so much.’

Too obvious to bring up the celebration answer now.

Ren closed the door behind Karen.

Oh, Karen. You do not deserve this.

As Ren got ready for bed, she remembered the autopsy photos and the chipped aquamarine nail polish of Gia Larosa. She remembered thinking that, on the table, Gia Larosa looked no bigger than an eight-year-old. Her belongings were a denim skirt with a jagged hem, a cropped white Ramones vest, a red cotton bandeau top, a plastic charm bracelet.

Tiny, blonde, rough around the edges.

Stephanie Wingerter, Gia Larosa — lost souls, easy targets. Was Hope Coulson a move to a different league for the killer? A greater challenge? And Donna Darisse was a return to a comfort zone?

The comfort of lost souls and easy targets...

Jesus Christ.